applesaucedream | [closed] When all turns out to be unjust, then I'll turn back and help you out

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[closed] When all turns out to be unjust, then I'll turn back and help you out

Seth is having a familiar dream. He's sitting in an underground interrogation room, cuffed hands resting on the cold metal table. Head bowed, eyes fixed on the table. Waiting. He's alone, but who knows who's on the other side of a one-way mirror next to him.

Elsewhere, as Daniel enters the dream, Seth casts him as someone being shown around the rebel base, perhaps as some sort of inspector, or someone who's just gotten their security clearance upped. The man showing him around is some sort of doctor, or a supervisor, probably both.

"Our next prisoner, J-19, has been working with us for three and a half months now. Doing good work, mostly compliant these days, though he can get a bit unruly sometimes," the man says, leading the way down one of the many underground corridors.

[Warning: ...I don't even know what all to warn for. Imprisonment, abuse, torture, temporary paralysis, NPC death, guns, a lot of emotions, sensory overload, suicide mentions... It's heavy.]

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Seth's just shimmied out of his trousers and socks when he hears Daniel make a noise behind him, and he turns in time to see Daniel's horrified expression. Something must be wrong, but Seth can't tell what it could be.

"What's wrong?" he asks, confused and worried now.

"You're -" Daniel makes an abortive hand gesture at his back. "I didn't realize they'd -"

He takes a shaky breath and looks away. Assigning Seth a number title in lieu of a name was a very deliberate act of dehumanization but going ahead and tattooing the number on him goes even farther. It's a constant, active reminder, an implication that Seth can't ever fully escape that place and the people in it.

They branded him. Like property.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, rubbing at his mouth with one hand and wishing he hadn't noticed at all. "I'm sorry, I just, I didn't realize they'd - done that. To your back."

It takes a long while for Seth to realise what Daniel is stammering about. He almost reaches back to see if there's anything there, worried he's gotten hurt without noticing or something.

"Oh," he answers, darkening a little once he finally catches up. He shifts on the bed, sitting up against the pillows and slipping his legs under the covers, so his back won't be turned against Daniel anymore, though he doesn't look up to meet his eyes. "Yeah, it was just... One particularly sadistic bloke who didn't much like it when I punched him in the face. Said it'd remind me of my place."

Seth probably could've done a better job of managing his anger at times, but there was a lot of frustration and emotions that he needed to vent somehow. Actually getting to take it out on a target who had actually done something to hurt him had been very liberating and rewarding, or at least until both the immediate and long-term punishments.

Daniel paces, restless, because he doesn't know what to do. He's been unwavering in his commitment to help Seth through this, just as he was steadfast in finding a way to get him out. It's what he is, someone who wears away the edges of grief and ache and takes them into himself and talks things through with sympathy and automatic compassion and all of it is instinctual, compulsory, necessary, and yet.

It bothers him. No, understatement - it distresses him, viscerally, because however much Seth might treat it with tired anger or disgust, it will always be there, a physical mark of the dehumanization and mental torture and whatever else was done to him. It's inked into his skin, for god's sake, taking all his mental scarring and making it tangible, physical, real, unhidden, baring it for the world.

And Daniel doesn't know what to do about it. He stopped talking to psych years ago; he doesn't know what the professional take on this would be.

So he paces, boiling with self-righteous anger and anxiety and frustration, taking off his glasses and turning them over and over in restive hands, and only stops when the excessive movement starts making him dizzy.

"What did they do to you?" he asks, a knee-jerk question, then quickly shuts his eyes and raises a hand in protest. "No, no don't - answer that. You don't have to, I'm sorry, I just -" His voice is shaking and he swallows to get a better grasp of it. "They did that to you."

It's old news to Seth, one of those familiar things that he hates, but he can't really work up any anger about, at least not in the state he's in. He's just weary and anxious, and at the moment the feeling of soft sheets and a fluffy pillow against his skin is an awful lot more tangible and present than what happened to him in there. Not that any of that's forgotten. It's lurking in the back of his mind, and he keeps remembering what getting that power in him was like. But right now it seems to be taking more of a backseat.

So Seth merely watches, slouched tiredly against the headboard. He's glad Daniel retracts the question, because that's a rather big one that Seth in no way has the capacity to answer at the moment.

"You're gonna fuck up your shoulder again," he comments quietly, in an attempt to get Daniel to calm down. While he appreciates Daniel being angry on his behalf, Seth doesn't like to see him upset.

"Sorry. Sorry," he says, shutting his eyes. He's not helping here. Seth is tired, Daniel's tired, they're both exhausted and injured and he's just making things worse.

He sits down in the chair and stands up again and walks to the other end of the room and finally sits on the other side of the bed because Seth has a very good point, he's going to mess his shoulder up again if he doesn't sit still.

Daniel's full of too many words, all of them useless, and he has to accept that this is beyond him right now. And Seth's right, he really should be horizontal, so he lies down. And quickly puts his glasses on the nightstand so he stops fiddling with them. And tries to stop thinking about it. And mostly fails.

"I'm just glad you're safe now," he mumbles finally.

Seth shifts to lie down properly once Daniel finally makes it to the bed. Exhaustion finally seems to be gaining the upper hand over all the other conflicting emotions.

"Me too," he agrees, barely audible now. Pretty soon he's asleep like a rock. For a couple hours, at least, though it's a bit more spotty after that. He keeps waking up at random noises, or from nightmares, or just for no good reason at all, but he forces himself to stay put and get some rest. So he just lies still, listening to Daniel's breathing next to him, until he's calmed down enough to slip off again.

Daniel doesn't sleep for what feels like hours; he realizes belatedly that he didn't even take off his shoes before simply lying down, still too used to sleeping in boots and BDUs and ready to be shaken awake to take off a moment's notice. And he's still tense from the everything they've had to collectively deal with for the past...ever.

After a while he resorts to the meditative sort of deep breathing, which takes its time but eventually does the trick. And it certainly helps that Seth is right there, away from cells and interrogation rooms and rebels. Seth's safe, that's what's important, and that's the thought that finally allows for him to sleep.

Daniel is still asleep by the time Seth finally gives up on getting any more sleep, though he remains in bed. There's not really much for him to do. He could take a shower, but he doesn't have any clean clothes to change into, and he might wake Daniel. And if he doesn't, well, then he'll be worried about leaving him on his own while asleep. A mostly irrational fear, but not one he sees enough reason to try to overcome. He carefully leans over to check Daniel's wristwatch - he'd removed the battery from the phone and he doesn't have a watch himself - and sighs softly. Too early to do much, and Daniel needs rest to heal.

So he lies there, considering Daniel. Wondering what he's done to deserve such a friend. They don't even know each other that well, but here's Daniel risking his life, on the run. Who knows how much work and time he put into getting Seth out. And for what? Seth finds it impossible to believe it would be just to have an important ally, someone to give him powers. Too much risk, too little payoff, surely. So it must be personally motivated, or perhaps merely altruistic, or more likely a combination. It sort of puts Seth in awe, and he's pretty sure that's not just from having low standards to measure from.

Eventually he decides it's late enough that he can get up and not feel guilty if he wakes Daniel. His body feels sore from everything that happened yesterday, but a better state than it was last night, mostly. He carefully slips out from the covers, and pulling on his t-shirt first, then going for the rest.

It's not until Seth gets up and starts moving around when Daniel stirs a little and promptly groans because getting up feels like such an insurmountable task, especially with the way his shoulder is aching from its rough treatment the day before. Daniel has historical difficulty making himself vertical at early hours without the assistance of coffee. The only thing he can manage at the moment is to drag his good arm over his eyes in a halfhearted attempt to wake himself up or possibly remind himself that he's still sentient, he's not certain.

Finally Daniel drops the arm and looks over at Seth.

"Morning," he slurs. "I'm assuming it's morning." That would explain the aching. And the head-aching. Which would ordinarily fall under the general category of "aching" but the headache is unrelated to injury and also much more pronounced, so Daniel decides it needs its own denotation.

Thankfully, he's recovering brain cells at an appreciable rate.

"How you feeling?"

"Better than last night," he answers honestly, which is probably the best he can say for how he feels. But waking up inside a hotel room rather than in a cell, well, it's hard to properly care about how badly he feels, whether physically, mentally or emotionally. Because now there's real hope things will get better.

"I'm going to go out and buy some clothes," he says decisively, pulling on his trousers as he get to his feet. "You can't show yourself outside in this," he says, heading to the bathroom to check the sizes of Daniel's bloodied and torn shirt and jacket.

"You stay there. I'll try to be back in less than an hour." He's trying to sound more confident than he feels. He's nervous as hell, but it needs doing, and he needs to acclimatise himself to actually being around people. It's probably going to be harder now, without Daniel by his side and worries to occupy his mind, but at least he's got a purpose, something to focus on.

It takes a good thirty seconds for everything Seth is saying to actually reach Daniel's brain and another thirty seconds for him to fully process it enough to formulate a reply.

"Clothes," he repeats in something that vaguely resembles English, which is not really a reply so much as meaningless repetition so he expands on it. "Good idea."

Yes, clothes sound like a good idea. Preferably shirts. He's already wearing pants and, perplexingly, shoes. Which he must have slept in. Without realizing it. All right then.

Daniel makes it to a ninety degree angle, sitting at the edge of the bed with one palm scrubbing at his eyes.

"And coffee," he adds, because the parts of him that are now cognizant have begun demanding caffeine with incessantly loud voices. "That'd be good too."

Edited 2014-10-23 19:15 (UTC)

Good thing Seth hasn't had anything regularly enough at the rebel base to become addicted to it, right? Well, at least not in this dream. Probably his subconscious letting him know he's not ready to reveal that whole thing to Daniel.

"I will get coffee," he promises, pocketing the wallet and the room key, and pulling on his shoes. "Alright... Back soon," he says, trying to treat this as a casual thing, like he does this every day, turning to the door and taking a deep breath, then steeling himself and heading out before Daniel has a proper chance to worry about him.

"Mm." Daniel half-waves a hand in farewell, still lacking the wherewithal to emote properly or consistently.

Eventually he gets his glasses back on and becomes conscious enough to start worrying, even if Seth hasn't been gone all that long. His perception of yesterday's events is rushed and blurry at the moment, but he remembers the mild terror of navigating the more public areas. Daniel wishes he'd been awake enough to offer to pick up clothes in Seth's stead, though there is the small problem of lacking a non-bloody shirt.

In the meantime, Daniel paces and waits for a sign that something's gone wrong and is generally far too jittery for someone who hasn't even had caffeine yet.

The good thing about being in the middle of Manhattan is it's not far to... well, just about anything you might reasonably need, actually. And they're right next to Broadway (the street, not the theatre district), so there's plenty shops.

Seth manages to pretty quickly find somewhere to buy a hoodie and a jacket, and a shirt and jacket for Daniel, all very basic and plain, as well as some shoelaces. He puts his clothes on right away, which helps with the cold, and a little bit with the anxiety once he pulls his hood up. He feels far too recognisable, especially while his neck tattoo had been there for anyone to see and recognise him by.

He also buys two burner phones and puts some money on them, before he finally moves on to breakfast. He buys coffee for them both, butter croissants, and a large brownie. He doesn't even slightly care that this is not what Alicia meant when she said to eat healthy. He hasn't had anything like this in forever.

By the time he gets back to the hotel room, his heart is thumping wildly, he feels kind of clammy again, but he hasn't had a panic attack or anything, so he's going to call it a win.

Daniel, who's been spending the past five minutes sitting on the edge of the bed and trying not to wring his hands, practically springs to his feet when Seth re-enters.

"Hey," he greets him, completely unnecessarily. "You doing all right?"

Seth doesn't look all right in the conventional sense, even if he looks better than he did yesterday. He's a little too pale, and Daniel guesses that his excursion didn't help much in this regard.

Seth nods and hands Daniel his coffee first of all. Then he puts the bag of clothes and phones on Daniel's side of the bed, toes off his shoes (which he hasn't laced yet), and sits down on the bed, pulling his feet up and crossing them, something he's gotten used to get his feet off the cold floor in his cell, even if it isn't cold in here.

The coffee's thankfully cooled off a little on the way here, but first of all he takes one of the croissants, breathing it in a bit before taking a bite. God, warm and fresh baked goods, it's like a religious experience.

Daniel accepts the coffee gratefully. The first sip burns his tongue and the contents are only a notch above instant grounds in quality and it is glorious. The caffeine almost immediately starts clearing away the remaining sleep muddling his brain.

He retrieves a shirt from the bag and tugs it over his head one-handed with a little difficulty, doing his best not to maneuver his bad shoulder around too much. Now more reasonably clothed, Daniel turns his attention back to Seth and grins a little when he sees the almost reverent enjoyment he seems to be deriving from the croissant.

The grin fades when Daniel remembers why such a small thing would be so immense for him.

"Been a while?" he tries to smile again, a sympathetic quirk of one corner of his mouth, but it mostly comes out pained. Everything feels like a detail. Objectively this is what many would refer to as a quintessentially "normal" life but for Seth this is a vast, vast differentiation from what he's been forced to get used to for the past three and a half months. And Daniel's worried - of course he is - about the period of adjustment.

Seth inclines his head a little, mouth full of croissant. That and he's still trying to wind down from having to deal with all those shop keepers. Funny how difficult completely regular social interaction becomes when... Well.

"There's for you too," he says, pushing the bag a little in Daniel's direction.

"Mm. Thanks." He fishes the second croissant out and registers for the first time that he is actually extremely hungry. Suddenly Seth's almost awed reaction seems completely justified.

As little as Daniel wants to bring up the next topic, he knows it's necessary.

"So," he begins tentatively, "how long do you think we should stay here?"

"Not long, two-three hours at most," he answers, shaking his head a little. He takes another bite, pausing before continuing. "In case they can track your phone or your card. I've paid cash for everything, including room, so they can't pinpoint us, but they might have our area."

There aren't that many hotels nearby, so if they come around asking... Well, Seth doesn't want to risk it. He's had trouble thinking about anything but what to do next, so he's already formed out a bit of a plan, one step at a time.

"Good plan." It makes sense that they should stay moving until they've put quite a bit of distance between them and the base. They're going to have to keep their heads down for a while. It's a solid short-term plan in the technical respect.

But that's not what Daniel's most concerned about. He takes another, larger swallow coffee in preparation for his next question, which he's already asked several times but has nearly every time been stonewalled with monosyllabic responses or wordless nods. Daniel can understand the laconicism, but that doesn't mean he won't address it.

"And how're you holding up?"

Seth frowns, considering. He's doesn't know how to answer or explain, how to measure how he's feeling, without going into painfully honest detail. And he's not sure how he'd cope with being painfully honest at the moment, or if that will change anytime soon.

"I dunno," he answers, warming his hands on the coffee, glancing up at Daniel. "I'm... I'm not sure how to answer that," he adds honestly. He's not sure he can really summarise. And perhaps it's just.. that he's felt close to a mental breakdown for so long, it's hard to judge accurately. He might break down any moment, or he might actually be coping just fine, all things considered.

"It's okay." Daniel regrets asking a little, but he doesn't know when they'll get the next opportunity to talk about any of it. "We'll stay ahead of them and, and I'll do whatever I can to help. We'll get out, far away as we have to. Whatever you need."

He doesn't know how far verbal consolation will go. At the very least it gives Daniel the illusion that they have goals for the longer term.

And then he just keeps going, because the caffeine has loosened his filter considerably.

"I'm sorry, bringing this up wasn't really, uh. Look, you ever need to talk about anything, I'm here and I'll, I'll stop pushing it." He stands, downing the remainder of his coffee in record time, and silently berates himself for his supreme lack of tact.

It's strange, how he ends up wanting to comfort and reassure Daniel, when Seth is the one who's probably in worst condition here. He almost feels guilty, whenever Daniel thinks he's said something wrong. But he's rational enough to know that Daniel wouldn't be here if he didn't want to be. He just seems to care so intensely, it keeps throwing Seth off.

"I don't mind you askin'," he says, fiddling with his cup. "I, uh, I appreciate it. I'm just... Having trouble sorting it out for myself, I suppose. Not used to talking about stuff." He used to be better at this. He thinks he used to be.

Edited 2014-10-24 03:19 (UTC)

[closed] When all turns out to be unjust, then I'll turn back and help you out

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